


Out of the Chrysalis

by MajorityRim



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Butterflies, Cat and Mouse, Fluff, M/M, Murder Husbands, Murder scene, Post-Season/Series 03, artful displaying of bodies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:32:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9787901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorityRim/pseuds/MajorityRim
Summary: 'We mount the body on a stags head, it’s a touching nod to the first of many crimes that would bring us together.'The world doesn't know that Hannibal and Will survived the fall, but they will soon.





	1. Chapter 1

Part of Will dislikes how much attention the body that he and Hannibal left gets. It’s an immediate wave of attention that he is so painfully used to; social media erupting as talk of the ‘murder husbands’ comes back to life and quickly climbs up to the top trending topic on twitter and fills the Facebook pages of many people all across America. There’s a mixture of fear and ecstatic unabashed love for what’s happened, people torn between marveling at the piece of art that Will and Hannibal have presented, and trying to denounce it for the crime that it is. People as always are conflicted by what’s happened. The art that Hannibal and Will have left invokes such strong emotions from people, some forgetting that what has actually happened is a grisly murder. People know that Hannibal’s crimes are often preformed slowly, that the victims suffer unbearable trails until finally he is done with his harvesting and they die; but somewhere in-between the beauty of the presentation the dark truth of it all is lost. People are willing to forgive terrible crimes when they are wrapped up so beautifully in scandal and drama, especially when such a crime hints not only at the obvious survival of Hannibal Lecter after his disappearance at the end of the Tooth Fairy case, but the hinted survival of his infatuation, Will Graham. The ‘Murder Husbands’, people whisper excitedly, have come back and they are taunting the police about such a fact.

Another part of Will finds the attention somewhat pleasant. He enjoys knowing that people are so interested in what he and Hannibal have done, though he can’t fathom why. Perhaps Hannibal is rubbing off on him too much, but he’s undoubtedly proud of the work they have produced, and more than that, he’s proud that people can see it for what it is. They don’t just see the body for the body that was used as their canvas, they see the whole artwork and some of them even see Will. It’s nice to be understood, to be seen and not pitied.

Will never thought that twitter would give him a confidence boost. Ironic really, considering the media used to tear him apart.

Photos circle around faster than they can be taken down. For every photo that’s flagged and removed because of it’s macabre nature, two more pop up; copies of the few images snapped and leaked before the police shut it down gaining more and more traction as everybody shares, tweets, and reblogs them. Will is sure he sees Hannibal do something similar, though he can’t be sure.

The body itself belongs to a forty something something man who had -on several occasions- drunkenly used the wall around their home to relieve himself after a late night partying. Why he always chose their wall was beyond Will, but what wasn’t beyond him was the understanding that Hannibal grew more and more irritated every time he saw it happen. Their home security had caught the man and his face as he lent against their wall to stop and clear out his bladder providing clear evidence of his crime, and after the forth time of feeling the need to ‘piss on our fence’ as Will had put it, Hannibal had finally snapped, and extended the offer to Will to join him on his hunt.

Will had initially declined, but upon learning more about the man, he’d found it in his heart to go hunting after all.

Now though, with his body put so beautifully on display, the crimes of their victim they had uncovered meant very little. His life had been reduced to little more than part of the lives of people regarded as far more important than he. Eventually the police would uncover what he had done of course, but even then there would be little interest in him, the focus would be so intently on Will and Hannibal, that Will doubted anybody would even remember the man’s name.

Geoff Douglas wouldn’t be a household name, though the headlines derived from his murder were certainly to catch the eyes of many avid fans and horrified civilians for months to come. Perhaps that would give him the satisfaction he wanted. A posthumous rise to fame, though Geoff Douglas’ own self would have nothing to do with such.

**MURDER HONEYMOON BRINGS BUTTERFLIES IN STOMACH**  
_(read more @tattlecrime.com)_

It was good to know that Freddie Lounds could always be counted on to be first on scene. And to give an appropriate headline for the crime. Hannibal had found it amusing, though Will suspected that Hannibal found most of what Freddie wrote amusing.

The only real downside to leaving a body in such a way was that it was a direct message to Jack that they were somewhere in America, and because they’d chosen somebody local, it ran the risk of leading him straight to them. Hannibal liked the idea of getting to meet with Jack again, Will not so much, though their intention was certainly clear, they were trying to draw Jack out. After everything they had gone through through the years, he didn’t really want to have a stand off so much as he just wanted to go in and kill Jack the normal, boring way. He was happy to let Hannibal harvest their dinner through other avenues (and occasionally kill somebody if he promised to dispose of the body and not put it on show) and live a quiet, if not unconventional life. Hannibal however, was so damn theatrical, that he wouldn’t allow it.

It was endearing in a way; Will knew that Hannibal’s interest in playing with Jack came mostly from wanting to both rub it in Jack’s face that he had won, and to punish him for driving Will so violently into the ground.

It would be somewhat gratifying, but Will still wanted a nice quiet life.

Even so, the thrill of creating such a piece of art with Hannibal had been unimaginable. He couldn’t compare it to anything else, not even his own creation he’d put on display at the museum for Hannibal years ago had felt as amazing. Perhaps it was because Hannibal was standing beside Will now instead of standing against him in their deadly game of courtship, though it could have also been the fact that just as the body had described, Will had transformed into something else. Something that enjoyed the violence and no longer felt the need to deny such a fact.

Geoff Douglas had been killed slowly, Hannibal’s thirst for his particular type of violence needed to be quenched, and Will for once didn’t mind watching or hearing somebody die at Hannibal’s hands. Perhaps it should have worried him that he was so at ease while Hannibal butchered a man in front of him, but Will couldn’t find it in himself to worry. It wasn’t the bloody, emotional stampede of violence that came from the death of Abigale, it was peaceful, almost tranquil in its elegant disembowelment of organs and personal self. It was a deconstruction of someone _-something-_ that was beneath the two of them. A life not worth giving consideration to. Hannibal removed what he could from their victim while Douglas was still alive, and took deep pleasure in offering the last cut to Will; who so deep within the mindset he shared with Hannibal that he took equal pleasure in ending the lift of the pitiful pig on their steel table.

The body was cleaned carefully, organs and meat that Hannibal had taken put away to be prepared later, the body scrubbed on blood and carefully cut open to help expose the ribcage better. Hannibal had reset bones so that Geoff Douglass looked almost natural in shape, so long as one didn’t consider his lack of internal organs. Hannibal had taken them all, though he wouldn’t cook them all for Will and he to eat. Part of the process was making sure that the body was prepared for their artwork, and for their artwork to be perfect, no organs could remain. A waste, unfortunately, but one that was worth the sacrifice of unusable meat in the body.

Body empty and bones reset, Geoff Douglas was ready for his transformation; it was time for him to become something more, and for Will and Hannibal to announce their existence once more into the world.

Reborn, they would create art together, one body with two minds; interconnected and working in perfect unison to create an artwork worthy only of them.

Displayed out in the middle of a park and surrounded by the flowers in full bloom, Geoff Douglas had been mounted on a stags horns draped just as Cassie Boyle had been displayed, though unlike Hannibal’s message to Will, Douglas’ chest was elegantly draped open to allow dozens of Sonoran Blue (’Philotes Sonorensis’ as Hannibal had called them)and Red-spotted Purple (’Limenitis Arthemis, Will’)butterflies to come flying from the chrysalis into the sky, each carefully suspended on wire and fishing line to create what almost looked like a hurricane of beautiful blue and red. The rebirth of those butterflies captured in the moment of transformation; when what once was a caterpillar erupted from its old self into something new, something more.

Not only was it a symbol of Will’s transformation, it was a warning for Jack Crawford.

A new game was about to begin and together the ‘murder husbands’ had made their move. Hannibal was mocking Jack, and Will was warning him of the danger to come, a duel meaning hidden within the symbolic rebirth of Will and the dawn of something far more dangerous than the Chesapeake Ripper.

“It’s beautiful.” Will had whispered, and it truly was. Their creation so proudly displayed for all to see was nothing short of a masterpiece. With his hand in Hannibal’s, Will closed his eyes.

The pendulum swung, and already knowing so much, the vibrancy of their artwork only shone more in the eye of Will’s mind.

_It’s beautiful._

_The organs have been removed ahead of time, there is no use for them in the display and will serve a better purpose on the dinner table. Though Geoff Douglas was a waste, he will not be wasted. We have been sure to clean the body properly before bringing to the park; everything must be perfect, this isn’t just a meaningless display, every small part holds meaning. When we are done, the body will be lost within the art. People won’t care for him just as Jack did not care for me. It’s laughter in Jack’s face, a reminder of the man he lost because of his own want to use me as a tool just as here I use Geoff Douglas as my canvas._

_We mount the body on a stags head, it’s a touching nod to the first of many crimes that would bring us together. The body has been prepared ahead of time and there is very little to do bar decorate our canvas. This man is nothing more than the base for our message now, he has become the paper where we shall write our invitation._

_Come and play, Jack Crawford._

_Together we use delicate wire wrapped around the ribcage of our canvas to display a hurricane of butterflies erupting from his body. He is the chrysalis made in my image. While he looks nothing like me, he has suffered a similar fate, his body has been torn open to allow something new out, something far better than he could have ever hoped to be. With Hannibal’s help, he has finally become himself._

_This is our design._

 

Now, they just had to wait to see what Jack Crawford was going to do. Undoubtedly, a chase was about to begin though just like before there was a significant advantage in Hannibal’s favour and this time, that favour extended to Will.

Reborn, he was ready to fully become the man that Hannibal had intended him to be. The chrysalis was opening, and the man emerging from it was so much more than the man that Will had been. He was Hannibal’s design, and surprisingly, Will found he didn’t mind.


	2. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if it isn't beautiful?

The morning paper arrives with a grey faced Jack Crawford on the front, and a picture of the victim beside him in an off cut, the heading in bold letters above them both.

**FBI AGENT UNDER INVESTIGATION AFTER RIPPER RESURFACES**

Hannibal is beyond pleased when he sees the headline, a smile gracing his lips as he leans over Will’s shoulder to scan the article, mixing bowl in his arms as he prepares breakfast which is to be for once, a simple affair. He’s preening, and Will can’t help but chuckle and roll his eyes knowing such. Hannibal has always enjoyed being one step ahead of Jack, but it’s even better knowing that the whole world in watching as he gracefully sidesteps the FBI and makes a mockery of the man. Freddie Lounds is sure to be lapping it up as well, and a quick scan of her website shows the amount of traffic the new murder has sent her way. They should ask her for part of the money she’s making off them on all of the tacky merchandise she’s selling. It’s not wonder that Freddie’s website is getting so much traction of course, she’s practically the expert on the cases, both the Ripper cases and just about everything Will worked on after meeting Hannibal. There’s an extensive breakdown of everything, and Will has to admit that as awful of a woman as she is, Freddie Lounds does her research. Because of that tenacious ability to get the answers she wants, Freddie can call herself the expert on Will and Hannibal also -though as always the information on Hannibal is rather limited, he’s always been good at keeping his private life just that- and teases her readers with pieces of information whenever she sees fit. Not that Will frequents _Tattlecrime_. Well, maybe just a bit, but it’s a bad habit he’s picked up from Hannibal.

Forums on the sight are alight with new theories and people of all types are chattering away about the murder. There is even a better pool going; Will Jack Crawford catch The Murder Husbands before their next murder?

The odds are in their favour, and there’s something about that that makes Will proud.

Hannibal sets pancakes in front of him and Will abandons his laptop in favour of them. The only thing that would make the morning better would be breakfast in bed (Not that it will ever happen, Hannibal is apparently allergic to even the concept of crumbs in the sheets.) Will drowns in pancakes in syrup and Hannibal pulls a dismayed face at the act. They eat in comfortable silence for the first few moments, the newspaper sitting between them as Jack’s gaze seems fixed on Will, intent on finding him and bringing them both to justice.

“It seems you have an admirer.” Hannibal jokes, a small square of pancake and fruit resting neatly on his fork. Will snorts, flipping the paper over so that Jack can’t watch him eat.

“That’s nothing, you should see what they’re writing about us online. Not all of it non-fiction.”

“Ah, but There is some truth to it,” Hannibal is more than happy to talk on the subject, Will not so much. He blushes, already knowing where Hannibal is going before he finishes his sentences. “Some of the acts that they so vividly describe I know you enjoy. There is one in particular—”

“I’m trying to eat.” Will cuts him off. With a knowing smirk, Hannibal continues his meal. He’ll bring it up again, Will knows he will. Hannibal actually enjoys reading through it, it strokes his ego and Will is sure he uses it to find new things to try in the bedroom. (Though Will has to admit that some of the suggestions aren’t really that unwelcome, not that he reads the stuff. Not that he goes on _Tattlecrime_ )

 

Hannibal expresses interest in displaying another body almost instantly, only a day after their first, though given his M.O, it’s not surprising. It only makes sense to stick to his current schedule, that of the Rippers, and it would put more pressure on Jack to come and find them. That’s the end game, after all, to lure Jack to them for the final confrontation. Jack is a loose end in their lives, and though they are yet to visit Bedelia and have her ‘atone for her sins’ -because Hannibal has to make everything as dramatic as possible- Jack is the far more pressing issue. Bedelia is only ever a threat when you are right in front of her, Jack however, is good at his job and even without Will could still find them. Following the breadcrumbs left for him, of course, they’re not being exactly subtle.

Killing again puts pressure on Jack. It reminds him that there’s only a certain amount of time to track them down before they take a break and vanish without a trace. To Italy, perhaps, because it’s predictable and it’s fun to watch Jack chase and try to catch smoke. Because just as he drags out killing his victims, Hannibal is more than happy to drag out his games. He did it with Will, and he’ll do it now with Jack.

They just need a new victim; and in the world they live in, there’s people all but lining up to be killed by them. People will always be rude, it’s a fact of life, Will and Hannibal just have to pick which one they want to kill for it. They could probably find a fan to kill at this point, some people wouldn’t mind laying down for Hannibal and Will. It’s not something Will likes to consider however; it’s too macabre for him though Hannibal is sure to get a kick out of the suggestion.

Instead of contacting a lunatic fan, they travel half way across America to find someone. It’ll be harder to take somebody this time of course, they have to be careful. With all of America a buzz with what they are up to, their selection needs to go unnoticed. It has to be done right or not at all; slipping up now would ruin everything, and Will is determined to prove to Hannibal just how capable he is. It’s not like he hasn’t killed anybody before after all, it’s just that now he’s helping pick out the victim’s, one at a time, ripe for the picking.

In the end, they end up killing two people. It’s easier than putting in a noise complaint a second time.

They are in a lavish hotel, Hannibal insisting on comfort and a good nights rest before they went out hunting, their presence completely unknown thanks to Hannibal’s charming personality and a few handy tricks that Will has learnt from years of studying criminals. They’re pulling sticky prosthetics off their faces and throwing wigs aside in their room when it first starts. An appalling moaning sound from the room next to theirs, something that should be impossible to penetrate through the walls and yet there it is. Hannibal makes a face, but Will assures him it will stop eventually. It’s just a bit of sex after all, if Hannibal is that concerned about it, later they can be as loud as they want in retaliation. Will can be pretty loud when he wants to.

The moaning doesn’t stop. Whatever super human freaks can go on for that long deserve what’s coming for them.

The plan of a good nights rest might as well be thrown out the window because next door, their to-be victims just won’t shut up. Hannibal calls reception once and in a polite English accent explains that he’s having trouble sleeping because of some ‘noise’ coming through the wall from next door. They hear the phone ring in the room beside them, the moaning stop for ten wonderful seconds, and then in absolute spite the moaning gets louder.

Hannibal is delicate, Will realises. He needs his recommended eight hours of sleep or be becomes an absolute monster. One look is enough to know that Hannibal has found their next victims, and the hand now repeatedly slapping on the wall behind his head is enough to convince Will that Hannibal’s right. How it came to murdering people for having sex Will doesn’t know, but he’s at least glad that now all those dark little thoughts in the back of his mind get some kind of fulfillment.

Hannibal pulls his plastic suit from his suitcase and then a second.

“Is that supposed to be for me?” Will frowns at it. He’s not exactly Hannibal’s brand of murderer, wearing a weird plastic suit isn’t his thing. Hannibal looks at him and then to the suit and holds it out expectantly.

“We’re only leaving the evidence that we’ve settled on, Will. The agreement was to make it as hard for Jack as possible while giving him the illusion that he was getting somewhere with the case, yes? This is to keep all other trace contaminates at bay.” There will be no fighting Hannibal on this, Will realises, and taking the suit with an exaggerated sigh, he gets ready for what’s about to come.

Hannibal knocks at the door with three taps that somehow manage to sound polite and the moaning stops. A disgruntled man in his twenties opens the door using nothing to cover himself only seconds later, obviously ready to tell house keeping or the manager to shove it up their ass. Hannibal regards him for a moment, smiles and steps in, grabbing the man by the head to crash it violently into the door frame knocking him out. He lays him down gently, stepping into the bedroom and suffocating the woman with a pillow with a grace that’s both beautiful and disconcerting all at once. She is given that gift alone, a quick death with no further pain to come. Hannibal however, enjoys spending time with his victims and dragging the man back over to the bed, sedates him so that he can enjoy spending time with him for at least the next hour to come.

Will steps in and locks the door. Suddenly, he’s not so sure about it all. He’d enjoyed the first victim, that much he couldn’t deny, but he wasn’t so sure he’d enjoy these victims. Perhaps it was because as he approached Hannibal offered him his own scalpel. There was something uncomfortable about the thought of participating that way, about not just creating art, but carving the canvas to suit their needs. Still, his hand wrapped around the handle and reaching the foot of the bed he could already see their vision coming to light.

_We make our incisions beside each other, a master and his apprentice working together to create one piece of art. There is no need to speak though it, we already know each other well enough to know what needs to be done. This is not our original plan, we are improvising and the bodies will not leave this room. It is bloodier than a Ripper kill, more sporadic as if I have planned it all myself. The Ripper would not normally make such a mess, but in every relationship there are compromises to be made, and ours is no exception. He knows that like this we can not move the bodies and so he has taken this opportunity to show me how to properly butcher a pig. This way, I will be better come the next victim. I will be able to participate more in the fun to be had._

_We will not feast on this meat, and so will use what they provide to create our next piece of art; but my incisions are shaky and messy, it is hard for me to grip the blade with so much blood there slipping through my fingers. I drop the blade, and pull away. It’s too much--_

_This is not my design._

 

Falling back, Will throws down the scalpel, a shaky hand running blood through his hair as he tries to calm down, legs almost giving way underneath him as he leans on the wall for support. There’s something wrong with this murder, something that makes him unable to commit. He’s shaking violently, and though he knows it can’t be possible, he watches blood spill from the woman he has cut open, over sheets and onto the ground, soaking the floor completely. Gently setting his own scalpel down, Hannibal moves over to Will in an attempt to calm him, pressing bloody hands up against either side of his face, holding Will’s focus on him and only him.

“Will.” The voice is hushed, it’s disconnected. Will can see Hannibal move his lips but it’s the monster behind him that speaks. The monster that wants to return to the body and finish the job. He is unhappy that he’s been interrupted, but will not scold Will here amongst the gore. That will come a later time; Will knows it will. The Wendigo will not tarnish the scene with Will’s own blood, but it is sure to come later, when they are alone.

“Will.” His name is repeated, still disconnected and though Will’s eyes finally focus in on Hannibal, he still can’t help but let his mind wander to the Wendigo behind them. “Are you alright?” Will wants to laugh at the question, it seems such a stupid one. Of course he’s not alright, he’s cutting up a body with his boyfriend in a hotel room just because the neighbours were having loud sex. He was convinced into thinking it was a good idea. Instead of laughing though, a croaked sound much like a dying animal escapes his lips, and leaning forward to rest his head on Hannibal’s plastic covered shoulder he weakly shakes his head.

“I can’t do it.” He mumbles, hoping that Hannibal will understand, that he will be forgiven. Hannibal rubs his back, though the feeling is muted by the layers of plastic, everything else is muted through the blood that’s climbing up the walls. Gently Hannibal helps him to sit on the ground. Will is worried he might drown in all the blood, but instead it starts to climb up him like wet liquid vines. A chrysalis is forming around him, but it’s not yet finished, the blood is not enough to form the cocoon he needs to transform.

“I will finish for us, Will, you have done so well to get this far.” Hannibal returns to their work and by the end of it, Will is sure that it is a beautiful piece of art for Jack to find. He can’t bring himself to look at it though, not even when Hannibal helps him to his feet, not after he’s been cleaned of the blood on his skin, and not even as they are leaving the room to return to their own can his look.

Instead, he lets Hannibal guide him out, numbly packs his bag as Hannibal cleans their room and leaves. They head back to their home, a seed of doubt threatening to bloom in the back of Will’s mind.

Perhaps this isn’t what Will wanted after all.

What if it isn’t as beautiful as he first thought it to be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are more than welcome, I always love feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> I may write more of this, I've left it with an open ended ending so that given the time, I can expand. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave a review or comment, it's always appreciated and I'd love to refine my writing c:


End file.
